His Little Prying Pandora
by The Embodiment of Yearning
Summary: A 15 year old phan. A wormhole. An Opera Ghost. His young student. Her fop. All of these come together to create a story of friendship, acceptance, passion, and love when young Scarlet finds herself employed by Monsieur Phantom himself. Can Erik even get through the story without killing her? Can this Pandora pry her way into his heart? We'll find out. I really suck at summaries.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: Ok, well before we get to the chapter, there are some things that I should explain a little bit, or the chapter might not make sense in some places. My OC, Scarlet, has a condition called Crouzon Syndrome, which is a genetic disease. When the baby is in the womb, the skull bones don't fuse correctly, which can cause facial and cranial deformities. Scarlet's case is very mild, so therefore, because of corrective surgery, she appears very normal except for a slightly larger forehead. I know that it's not really something that seems all that dramatic, but kids are brutal. High school kids especially, and since Scarlet is at the tender age of 15, that makes it worse. She's suffered from lifelong bullying and exclusion, which is why she is so depressed. But please review and pm me, and let me know what you think! This is my first actual story, so all of your feedback is greatly appreciated! **

**All of my love,**

**-The Embodiment of Yearning**

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Chapter One: Running to Freedom

**"****Running away will never make you free."**

**-Kenny Loggins**

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_Pennsylvania, 2013:_

"Scarlet!"

Someone was calling her name, but she ignored it. The music blissfully continued.

"Scarlet!"

The abrasive voice grated against her eardrums once more, causing the wonderful sounds around her to pause. After a moment, the music surged to joyful life.

"SCARLET!"

Her eyes popped open in confused shock. There was no more music, but the irritating voice bristled against her senses.

"Get up! You're late for school!"

_Maybe if you don't respond, she'll leave._ She closed her eyes and steadied her breathing. Her mother whispered a string of profanities and suddenly, she was hit by a gust of freezing air.

"Mother, if you would kindly give me back my blanket, I would be ever so grateful." She growled through clenched teeth.

"I won't take any of your sarcasm this morning, Scarlet. You are 15 years old, but your behavior of late has been that of a child. One with a horrid attitude, might I add."

She raised her head from the pillow to glare at her mother. "You want to talk about attitudes? Ha! How about hypocrisy, since you're one of the biggest hypocrites I know? Really, Diana, you should just leave now. I'm in no mood for your ditzy games this early in the morning."

"Scarlet Craft, how dare you address me in that manner? Using my first name, no less! You are grounded, and you can find your own ride to school, I have work." With that, her mother turned, and with a melodramatic flip of her hair, left.

She sighed and sat on the edge of her bed. Her anger melted into crushing dread as one word reverberated through her head.

_School._

She felt the hot tears build up. _Please, no. I don't know if I'm strong enough._

Then the voice of reason piped up. _Scarlet, you've been strong enough every other day. Put the waterworks away and let's go, there's no time for your petty tears._

She wiped her eyes and crossed the room to grab the phone. She dialed the one number she knew she could always depend on. After two rings, her aunt picked up.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Aunt Kelly. What time do you have to be at work?"

"Nine o'clock, why? What's up, Scarlet?

"I need a ride to school." There was a pause, and she knew that her aunt had figured out what had occurred and why her mother couldn't drive her to school.

"Of course, dear. What time do you want me to swing by the house and get you?"

She glanced at the clock, which read 7:30 AM.

"How about 8:15?"

"Sounds good, kiddo. See you then!"

"See you."

There was a click and she put the phone back on the receiver. She walked over to her closet and decided on a pair of skinny jeans and a purple Aéropostle t-shirt. After selecting the proper undergarments, she dressed and went to the kitchen. There wasn't really anything she was hungry for, so she sat at the table and stared at the patterns in the wood.

_You're a freak. A deformed freak, just like everyone says. Even if you weren't a freak, you would still be an outcast. No amount of plastic surgery could help with your ugly personality. You're worthless, Scarlet Craft. Absolutely worthless. No one will ever love you, because everyone judges on looks. No one will ever understand you, no one ever has. So keep hiding behind your mask of faux happiness, when inside you are truly a poor excuse for a human being. Your own mother turns a blind eye to your misery! So really, what kind of life is there for one who lives in hiding?_

She ignored the voice of her depression. She had heard all of that before, and didn't need it repeated.

_What do you have to live for, Scarlet? Why do you keep going? What's the point?_

She considered each question, and found that she really didn't know. She had her family, her friends, and music to live for, but what would she do when she didn't have them? She kept going because she wanted to sing one day, and teach the world what real music was. But what if something ruined that for her? The point of her continuing to live was so she could rise above this Hell she called her life.

_But what if you don't have the means to rise, Scarlet?_

She let her eyes fall shut in silent despair.

_I don't know._

A few minutes of confusion later she rose from her chair and went into the bathroom. She brushed her teeth and tried to do something with her reddish-brown hair, but as usual, it didn't cooperate. She looked at her face in the mirror. First, at her pale skin dotted with freckles that made her look sickly under the fluorescent light, which highlighted the purplish veins underneath and above her eyes. Then, to her mouth, which was much too small for her face. She concluded her examination with her eyes, which were average size, but still too small, as she'd been told many times. They were an ugly, plain blue, almost gray.

_Perfectly ugly. The definition of imperfection_.

She grabbed her bag, then put on her navy blue hoodie and gray sneakers. Her aunt pulled up in her Prius a few minutes after she had locked her front door. It was cool outside, and light rain was falling from the clouds overhead. It was typical weather for an October morning in Warriors Mark, the small town she had called her home for the past seven years. It was an alright place to grow up, she supposed, as the houses went by in a blur.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Her aunt asked softly.

"No… I'm used to it by now. I'll survive."

Another bit of silence fell between them until they pulled up in front of the high school.

"Call me if you need to be picked up early."

She nodded and went to homeroom.

Classes passed by in a blur, and not even her eccentric, ever cheerful best friend Angela could pull her from her silent reverie. She was far away, and yet, keenly aware of everything. The snickers, the hateful glares, the pointed fingers, and the derisive comments. By lunch, she had formulated her plan. She would go home, pack a bag, and cut through the woods behind her house to the Greyhound bus station on the other side. She would leave, if only for a few months.

She went into the bathroom, called her aunt, and slipped a note into Angela's locker on her way out. The sky was overcast, the wind was starting to pick up, but she didn't notice the weather. She went to her room, grabbed her duffel bag, and started throwing in whatever items popped into her head. When she was finished, she felt as prepared as possible with her emergency sockful of money, her pocketknife, some clothing, and some snacks for her trip all shoved haphazardly into her bag. She changed into black sweatpants and hoodie, and out the back door she went. The area of forest she had to hike through was only about three miles, so it should've been easy. Her only hindrance was not having the sun to help her navigate. But she soon discovered that it would be anything but easy.

She had walked a little less than a mile when a strange sensation overwhelmed her. The sensation of being watched. Just then, she heard a branch snap off to her left, and a growl to her right. She broke into a sprint, even though the ground was still slick from the rain.

_You idiot! How could you have forgotten about the coyotes? You're probably smack in the middle of their territory! Stupid, stupid, stupid!_

She had run off the trail, and before she even had a chance to think, the ground underneath her feet gave way.

She was falling


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: Hi guys! In case you hadn't noticed, I like to put quotes before every chapter. The quotes will always have something to do with what the chapter is about, and I think it will become more interesting as the story continues. As always, please review and PM me!**

** I remain, dear readers, your obedient authoress.**

** - The Embodiment of Yearning**

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Chapter Two: Let the Dream Begin

**"_Let your mind start a journey through a strange new world. Leave all thoughts of the life you knew before. Let your soul take you where you long to be!_"**

**-Erik**

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When she opened her eyes, the sun was setting over the roof of a nearby building. _A building?!_ Strangely enough, she remembered everything that had happened up to that point with perfect clarity. She had decided to run away, so she hiked through the woods, got chased by coyotes, and fell into a ditch. So why was she surrounded by buildings, and why did she feel no pain? She had no idea how far she'd fallen, but it wasn't like there were fluffy pillows on the bottom of a firetrucking _hole_. And how the _hell_ did she end up here? Where was here?

_Chill. Just calm down and try to figure out what's happening. Calmly._

She looked around. She appeared to be sitting in an alleyway. She grabbed her bag and started walking toward the street. A _cobblestone_ street. _You're most likely unconscious, and this is just a dream. _Suddenly, someone rounded the corner and ran right into her. She fell, landing hard on her backside. _Alright, you're not dreaming, because that hurt like a-_

"Oh! Pardonnez-moi, mademoiselle. Toutes mes excuses." said a thin, regal, woman whose arms were full of bags.

Scarlet's jaw dropped. "Madame Giry?!" _How is this possible? You can't feel pain in dreams, and yet you are going to end up with a bruise on your ass. This has to be real, but at the same time, it can't be! Dafuq?_

The woman eyed her carefully, and Scarlet didn't miss the look in Madame's eyes when she noticed the odd attire and the duffel bag. "Oui. Vous-je connais?"

_Thank God I passed French One with a 95% average._ "Non, je suis perdu. Parlez-vous anglais?"

Madame Giry smiled kindly at her. "Yes, I do. What's your name?"

"Scarlet Craft, Madame."

"Well Scarlet, do you have any inkling of where you are?"

_Yeah, I know exactly where I am. In a world that doesn't freaking exist._ "Paris, France… Madame, what's the date?"

"It's October 6th, 1869. And from your accent, I'm assuming you're American. So how did you get to Paris, dear?"

"Honestly, Madame Giry, I have no idea." she sighed.

Madame Giry's face was solemn. "It seems that you have memory loss, Scarlet. What about your family and friends? Do you remember anything about them?"

"I don't have any." _Not here, at least._

"I see. Well, we are about two streets down from where I am employed, and I can find out if there's an opening for you, if you'd like."

Scarlet's jaw dropped for the second time. "A job at the Opera Populaire? That would be a dream come true!"

Again, Madame Giry looked at her strangely. "Very well, follow me. But stay in the shadows."

_Damn, I've got to watch it, before I really screw up and say something that would get me into trouble. What if I accidentally say something about the Phantom? He'd kill me!_

As they walked, Madame Giry kept looking back at her. Scarlet shifted her bag uncomfortably. Finally, Madame spoke up.

"Scarlet, I don't know how you know about me, but I do know that you're not from America. Not 1869 America, at least." She paused. "But I do know that you truly are lost, and that you aren't a threat to anyone. In fact, I think you'll turn out to be of great significance to many of those at the Opera."

Scarlet was dumbfounded. How could this supposedly uneducated ballet instructor know something like that? But it was probably just her clothes, or her bag, but still... She opened her mouth to argue, but Madame spoke first.

"Don't try to protest, Miss Craft. I am a superb judge of character, and know greatness when I see it."

The rest of the walk was spent in thoughtful silence.


End file.
